


It's Confusing Trying to Distinguish False Hope from Happiness

by hollowfirefly



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Dreams, M/M, Mormonism, One-Shot, Secret Relationship, cute brallon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2006652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowfirefly/pseuds/hollowfirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here.</p><p>Wrapped between sheets with his head on my chest, the dull hum of his breathing. The way his too long legs twisted perfectly within the holes of my own. Like a key in a hole. Like the piece on the puzzle.</p><p>And sometimes it all just seems too good to be true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Confusing Trying to Distinguish False Hope from Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Just a cute Brallon one-shot I wrote. You don't know POV until slightly in but it's pretty easy to figure it out by description.
> 
> I hope you like it! Post comments/feedback and leave kudos. Enjoy!

Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here.

Wrapped between sheets with his head on my chest, the dull hum of his breathing. The way his too long legs twisted perfectly within the holes of my own. Like a key in a hole. Like the piece on the puzzle.

And sometimes it all just seems too good to be true.

Like maybe I'm not meant to be here and that soon this will all be gone, faded. And he will find someone else. And I will forever watch from the side. The beautiful spectator.

But then he mumbles something about me in his sleep and I remember why I stick around.

I remember why I even offered in the first place. To walk him down the halls of school, showing him around, his uniform being way too small length wise and way too big width wise. How he arched slightly because of his lengthy spine and yet, he still looked small and timid like by just poking him you could knock him over.

But no one ever wanted to poke him. Because no one ever had a need to.

He never talked much, but I sort of liked watching just the way his eyebrows furrowed at something said or how he could inconspicuously roll his eyes and no one would ever notice. It kept me guessing, never knowing if maybe he would talk or not.

But when he did talk... my knees went weak and the little blush in my heart rose to my face.

He wakes up now and I'm already smiling at the quiver of his upper lip. The way his fingers pick the crust from the corners of his eyes. My heart flips slightly when he lifts his head up from my chest and his leg presses slightly against my middle. He smiles up at me, chin poking into my ribs and bites his bottom lip.

"How long have you been watching me?" He asks me and I smile.

"Since I woke up about an hour ago." I poke his nose and lean down to kiss his forehead. He lifts himself up and now he's straddling my chest and I run my hands up his calves to his thighs and then back down again.

"Mmmm Bren what am I gonna do about your creepy stalkerish staring?" He giggles and then leans down giving me one of those amazing soft and slow, yet full of desperation kisses he so loves to gift me with.

Oh and when he says my name... It's like it heats up my heart with happiness.

"Dallon James Weekes." I say and nothing more. I just like to say his name, hear it released from my tongue the way men in the bedroom do. I've said it plenty out in world of reality. Where the elders and the parents and the schools could preach their names like small specks of dirt, or the wives and husbands could say names like they care but really don't.

But here, Dallon could say Brendon, and I could say Dallon, and for once it meant something more than flippant lies and unloved words.

"Brendon Boyd Urie." Dallon throws his head back and laughs, hands still resting assuredly on my shoulders. "You have the most Mormon name Elder Urie." Dallon smirks and kisses me again.

"We should have sex dressed in the suits with our little nametags." Dallon continues and I never have a chance to answer because Dallon keeps on kissing me everywhere and whenever Elder Weekes' lips are on my skin, I can't form words in my head, much less on my tongue.

"And when do you plan on doing that?" I smirk and pull back slightly to look at him. He has a desire in his eyes and it fuels me. That look in his eyes, that fire in his soul, keeps me pushing towards the day we run away. Run away to a place where we can hold hands without the fear of being punished or killed.

"When we're in New York. When we can look back at this. At Vegas and Utah and just fuck it all away. Literally and metaphorically." Dallon leers and connects his lips with mine and maybe that day will come soon. Maybe someday they will be in New York, married with kids. Happy all the time. Not just in a room full of memories and concealed glee.

Maybe one day.

But for now Dallon and I have our stolen kisses and ambiguous fucks and strange metaphors.

And that's all I need to breathe.

Until New York.

*****flashback*****

_"Hi um yeah is this... Are you..." Dallon stutters and Brendon laughs. "What's wrong Dall?" The bed squeaks underneath them slightly._

_"Well you're really close and I... I like how it feels." Dallon whispers to Brendon. Brendon blushes but doesn't move his leg from near Dallon._

_"Yeah?" Brendon flicks his eyes to Dallon's lips. They're so pretty and god maybe Brendon's been staring but... It doesn't mean he's the sin of-_

_Or maybe he is._

_Because well now Dallon is kissing him and it feels really good and his whole body is shaking and Brendon can feel his own pulse without having to touch a vein._

_Brendon likes the way Dallon touches him all over his skin and he likes Dallon's breath against his mouth and okay._

_He's a walking sin._

_But finally there are no clouds over Brendon's little world. Over his bubble. And he can breathe. He can breathe even though his mouth his occupied and he can't get air in his nose. But the freedom seems so real with Dallon there._

_It's almost surreal. But maybe this could be his and Dallon's reality.Away from the real world of truth._

_Maybe a world of false hope._

_Or as Brendon would like to put it, a world of happiness._


End file.
